Jealousy
by JoaniexJony
Summary: A peaceful mission turns into a fight for survival because of the most unlikely reason. Shep whump!
1. Chapter 1

Summary:- A peaceful mission turns into a fight for survival for Sheppard, because of the most unlikely reason.

Warnings:- Violence, and a little mild bad language.

Disclaimer:- SGA still isn't mine - unfortunately.

A/N. The idea for this story came from a reader way back last year - sorry it took so long to reach the light of day. And many thanks to **Sterenyk Strey** for a fabulous and speedy beta as usual. Also I would like to dedicate this story to **flyboyfan23**. Have a very happy birthday when it comes!

JEALOUSY.

CHAPTER 1

Ronon was grinning, but this time John couldn't share the joke.

In a way he couldn't blame the big guy's amusement and if the situation was reversed, he'd probably react the same way. But it wasn't funny, at least not to him. Even if it was only a sprain, his foot still hurt, and hobbling down to the infirmary really wasn't the way he'd planned to start his day.

"Morning, Colonel, Ronon. So, what do we have today…another training accident?" Carson got up from his desk, and moved over to take John's other arm when he saw them come into the room.

John knew the Scot was only doing his job, but he felt pissed and couldn't keep the belligerent tone out of his voice. "No."

Carson drew him a look. "Well, it doesn't take a genius like Rodney to see you're limping, Colonel, so would you like to tell me what happened?"

"He tripped…"

John could have wiped the smirk off the Satedan's face - if he could've stood up straight. His agony didn't end there as Ronon chose that moment to be more talkative than usual.

"Over his own feet." Ronon continued, and his smile grew wider. "Should've seen it, doc, it was funny. We've just finished our workout and I was helping him off his ass, when he tripped and fell flat on his face."

John glared at him. "_Thanks _for that, buddy, but Carson's got this covered now so you don't need to hang around." When Ronon didn't move, John gave him a sideways glare. "Don't you have something better to do?"

"Nope." Ronon just stood there grinning with his arms folded, rooted to the spot.

He could see the big guy share a look with Carson, and the Scot's lips were twitching – damn it. John considered himself to have a good sense of humour but he'd had more than enough of being the butt of the joke. Sore ankle or not, John edged forward on the bed getting set to leave, when Carson finally cut him a break.

"Thanks for your help, Ronon, but I need to run some scans and that's going to take a while." Carson told the Satedan. "In any case I'm sure Mr Woolsey will want to know why the colonel won't be able to attend the briefing this morning."

John groaned. He'd forgotten about that. For a second he considered asking Ronon to keep quiet about how he'd got hurt, but figured that was pretty much a lost cause. Neither secrets nor subtlety were Ronon's forte, besides it would only be a matter of time before the whole base knew, so John reckoned it was better to get the humiliation over sooner, rather than later.

"Ow!" The yelp slipped out before he could stop it. John felt like a wuss, and could feel himself tense up when suddenly Carson stopped loosening his boot and raised his chin to look at him. It was the kind of look John hated. It was the look that told him he might not been leaving here anytime soon.

"So…what's the verdict, doc? It's just a sprain – right?" John pinned a smile on his face, keeping his tone light, but he could tell Carson wasn't buying it.

"I'll know better once I get you under the scanner. In the meantime I'll give you a little something to take the edge off before I try that boot again."

"I'll be fine without the drugs,"John persisted, "you just caught me unawares that all."

Carson went over to the cabinet, and less than a minute later came back with a loaded syringe which he deftly slid into John's arm. "I'm aware you have a high tolerance for pain, Colonel, but I'm a doctor not a barbarian, so humour me will you?"

He hated the goofy way drugs made him feel, but John bit back the retort, knowing protesting would get him nowhere. In the infirmary Carson was the head honcho, so John had no choice but to suck it up until the doc was finished with him. Within minutes, the all too familiar lethargic feeling started seeping into his body, and his brain started becoming woozy.

"Cr…ap!" Even doped up, John couldn't suppress the expletive. He knew Carson was being as gentle as he could, but it hurt like hell. By the time the doc was finished removing the boot he was shaking, lying in a pool of sweat. John was embarrassed when his hand trembled as he raked it through his hair. When he looked up, he saw Carson watching him.

Carson started gently manipulating the ankle, and John's knuckles went white as his fists gripped onto the sheet.

"It looks like a fracture I'm afraid, Colonel." Carson told him as he peeled off his latex gloves. The doc wasn't smiling now. "I'll get Marie to help you into scrubs then we'll get those scans done."

"How bad is it, Carson? What kind of downtime are we talking about?" John asked, not hopeful by the guarded expression on his friend's face.

Carson hesitated for a moment. "Best case scenario, six to eight weeks off active duty, but realistically, it depends on the break. If it's not too bad, we may be able to avoid surgery and I'll fit you with a walking cast, – you won't even need to stay overnight." The Scot raised his eyebrow and paused before he continued. "However if we do catch a break – sorry for the pun, Colonel, it doesn't mean I want you on your feet all day – understand?"

"Seriously? That's good news…well better than I expected anyway." John mumbled. He wasn't thrilled at the thought of being restricted to light duty, but it beat the hell out of being confined in the infirmary. All in all things could have been worse, so the tension gradually started to melt away, and as the drugs were making him a little sleepy, John let his head fall back against the pillow.

Carson patted him on the shoulder. "That's the ticket, Colonel, just relax and we'll have you sorted out in a jiffy."

ooooOoooo

Carson had told him he'd got lucky, but after two and a half weeks of hobbling around Atlantis, John was bored as hell.

He felt like a caged animal, struggling to stifle his frustration as he watched with envy all the crews going through the 'gate, before lumbering to his office to do yet more paperwork. It wasn't his favourite job at the best of times, and with little else he could do, John was heartily sick of it. He was well aware by now he should have been bang up to date, but it was so mind-numbingly tedious that by the time he shuffled the papers around for a while, checked some emails then finally resorted to doing some work, the pile barely went down. John was pretty sure the damn thing was a sentient being…and breeding.

Later, if he wasn't called to a meeting, he'd visit Rodney in his lab – at least he'd used to until Carson caught him stumbling down to the science block two days in a row. John had tried to placate him, convince him it wasn't that far, he'd even used his best puppy dog expression, but the doc wasn't wearing any of it. Carson had rounded on him. He'd told John in no uncertain terms if he abused the walking cast and kept roaming around the base like a man possessed, he would confine his sorry ass to the infirmary for the rest of the duration. At least that was his version of events. The Scot had used words like eejit and scunner. John had understood the gist of the conversation, but he wasn't going to ask what they meant until Carson was in a better mood.

With at least another four weeks of light duty ahead of him, Teyla and Ronon had been assigned to other teams for the duration. The guys would stop by when they could, but as John wasn't an invalid it was just a snatched lunch or dinner, or maybe a movie if they had the time. John missed them, and it sucked being laid up, especially as his ankle didn't hurt much, although the itch was really starting to piss him off.

Fed up, he pushed back from the desk, and swivelled his chair to look out the window. The sun was shining, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was perfect flying weather and he was desperate to snag a jumper and get out into the blue. He was going stir crazy, and was pretty sure if he didn't get a break from the monotony soon, he would hit something …John watched his mug smash into a million tiny pieces; shards of pottery mixed with cold coffee sliding down the wall. He groaned, and put his head in his hands. The burst of anger surprised him, and John couldn't believe what he'd just done. He lumbered to his feet to clear up the mess.

"Are you alright, Colonel?" Lorne was standing at the doorway watching him with a look of concern. He immediately came over and began to pick up the pieces.

John went scarlet. He wasn't proud of losing it, and felt even worse having a witness to the event. "I'm _fine_ – and leave that. It's my mess, I'll clear it up."

Lorne stopped and looked up, but didn't move from his position kneeling on the floor. "With all due respect, Sir, you don't look fine, and I'm sure Doctor Beckett wouldn't want you kneeling on that cast."

John rubbed his forehead, feeling the tension headache that had started that morning work its way down to his neck. He slumped back down on the chair. "Yeah…I suppose. Look, I'm sorry for barking at you, Major, I'm just…"

"Going stir crazy?" Lorne interrupted with a wry smile. "Can't say I blame you, Sir. When I broke my leg in Michael's warehouse, I go so fed up with being stuck in base I thought I was going to hit someone."

"_Really_?" John coughed, and the two men locked eyes and laughed. "Anyway, Major, apart from sparing me Doctor Beckett's wrath, what else did you come here for?"

Lorne put the last piece of debris in the bin then scrambled to his feet. "Actually, Colonel, it's concerning our latest allies the Mondolans."

John face clouded over. "What's the problem? I thought they were a peaceful people, and were happy with the deal on the table?"

"They are, in fact they're so happy with the help they've already received, their chief elder would like to hold a banquet in your honour." Lorne told him with a twinkle in his eye.

A slow smile grew on John's face. "Would they now?"

"In fact I've already spoken to Mr Woolsey about it." Lorne told him. "He seems to think it's a good idea."

"So…when they be looking for this visit?" John asked, hoping his optimism wasn't misplaced.

Lorne tried to suppress a grin. "At the end of their harvest…in just under two weeks. They want a joint celebration before the rains come, after that the villagers seek shelter for the next couple of months."

"Well…I would really hate to disappoint these folks." John winked. "And it isn't really a mission – is it?"

"I don't think so, Sir." Lorne agreed. "It's more of a social event – promoting Atlantis."

The smile fell from John's face, when he realised one potential stumbling block... "Let's just hope Beckett sees it the same way…"

ooooOoooo

Carson stared at the small group comprising of Teyla, Ronon, Rodney and Lorne who were surrounding Sheppard. The man himself was sitting back against the examination table looking the picture of innocence, but Carson knew an ambush when he saw it. "How far away is the 'gate?"

Lorne who was standing just off the side from Sheppard's team, answered. "It's no more than five miles, but if the Colonel's coming with us I'll take a jumper. There's a discreet landing area no more than a hundred yards away."

"I could manage that easily, Carson." John interrupted, but Carson ignored him.

"I could carry him if you want." Ronon grunted, and Carson had to quickly suppress a smirk at the look of horror that appeared on John's face.

He'd already had a visit from Mr Woolsey that morning and had been persuaded – albeit reluctantly – to allow John to go on this mission, but Carson didn't like being played, and was determined to make Sheppard sweat for a bit.

"And what exactly is so important that you or Mr Woolsey can't go in the colonel's place?" Carson persisted, putting Lorne on the spot. To his credit the major didn't finch under the interrogation.

Lorne walked forward expressionless, and folded his arms. "Technically it isn't a mission, Doctor Beckett, it's a social event, a banquet to celebrate the new alliance." He explained. "Mr Woolsey could have gone…of course, but he's waiting to be called to a meeting of the IOA. In any case the chief elder, Craemal, wants to meet the military leader who's responsible for the protection of his people."

The man was good, Carson had to admit, but then he didn't expect anything less of Sheppard's XO. Still he wasn't finished just yet. He started to shake his head. "I'm really not happy about this…"Carson paused for effect then turned to stare at Sheppard under hooded eyes. "I'll tell you what, Colonel. If I'm happy with the result of the scans and provided you follow all of the conditions I set down, then you can go…"

"Really? That's great!" John beamed, but his smile froze when Carson interrupted.

"You use crutches at all times, and I want you back immediately the banquet is finished."

"Sure…"

"I'm not finished, Colonel. "Carson interrupted John again. He admitted to himself he was enjoying watching John squirm. "As soon as you return to base, you come straight to the infirmary for a full battery of tests to make sure no harm's been done."

"_Anything_ else? John asked, using a sardonic tone.

The two men just stared at each other for a second, before Carson smiled. "I tell you what, Colonel, I could use a break from routine myself …I think I might just come with you."

Ronon was more astute than anyone gave him credit for as he smiled and shook his head before slowly walking away.

"Having my own doctor on standby – I'm honoured." John smirked, then his smile became genuine. "It'll be nice having you with us, Carson."

At the heartfelt reply, Carson felt a little guilty at winding up his friend and he was about to recant when he realised a change of scene was probably just what he needed.

Teyla came over and smiled. "Thank you, Carson, for allowing this. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Let me guess." Rodney came over and whispered in his ear. "Woolsey had already been to see you, hadn't he?"

"I'm sure I don't have a clue what you're talking about, Rodney." Carson replied, expressionless.

"Oh, yeah?" Rodney persisted with an edge to his voice. "You can't kid a genius like me…besides there was no way you were going to let him go otherwise." The scientist then lowered his voice further. "For one I'm glad he's getting out of the base for a while. He's been turning up at the lab, bugging the hell out of me every day since he's been grounded."

"Well I'm not saying I had already decided to let him go mind…but if you want to thank me properly, Rodney, you can buy me single malt in the mess this evening."

ooooOoooo

It had been an awesome day.

The sun had shone from the moment they'd flown into the cloudless, blue skies, and when they'd set down on Mondolan it felt comfortably warm. The town itself was picturesque, it's quaint pastel, painted cottages covered with flowers, set against a backdrop of an impressive mountain range. To the other side, lay a small covered market nestled just off from the shingled harbour, where fishermen were preparing their boats for the coming rains.

Most of all, John was glad to be surrounded by his team again. He loved Atlantis, but back on base everyone was so busy doing their own thing, the time he spent with Rodney, Teyla and Ronon was snatched at best. Out here, it was like old times and he hadn't even minded using crutches on the short walk from the jumper. Even Carson had lightened up at the sight of one of Pegasus's prettiest towns, and had taken the crutches off him, allowing him to meet the chief elder without looking like an invalid.

The people were friendly, and John quickly had to hide his embarrassment at the enthusiastic reception he received. It was almost as if he was a conquering hero, except so far he'd done nothing except turn up and take advantage of their generous hospitality. Now with the sun starting to set, John felt tired and his ankle ached. It had been a long day, but a good one, in fact the best he'd enjoyed in quite a while. Still it was getting a little stuffy, so he excused himself from the table to catch a breath of fresh air.

As he walked out John didn't see the tent peg and tripped - into the arms of a woman.

"Are you alright, Colonel Sheppard?" The woman, who caught him before he fell, gave him a look which made the colour flood into his cheeks. He nodded his thanks but instead of letting go, she moved in closer. So close, he saw the rise and fall of her breasts.

Tall, with long brown curly hair, she was attractive, but not really his type. Besides, the ring on her finger told him she was already taken. He backed away until she had no choice but to let go of his arms. "I'm fine, thank you. I appreciate the assist."

He smiled, and was about to walk away when she got into step beside him. "If there's anything you want, Colonel, anything I can do - my name is Ellanda."

John just wanted to be left alone for a few minutes, but he kept the smile on his face. "That's very kind of you, but I'm waiting for one of my team." His mom had frowned on lying, but John reckoned she would rather her son told a white lie, to avoid the advances of an amorous married woman.

"I thought you might have come out for some air?" Ellanda slowly undone the top button of her already low lace top, and started fanning her exposed cleavage with her other hand.

"Me? No…I like the heat." John lied, again. At this rate his mom would be turning in her grave. He made to move away, when she came up and wiped away a bead of sweat trickling down his face.

Ellanda rubbed it between her fingers and looked up smiling. "You look hot to me…very hot. In fact I think we should go somewhere where we can make ourselves more...comfortable."

"Colonel, Sheppard, can I have a word?" Carson came out the tent, and made his way towards them.

"Sure, Carson, what's up?" John smiled at his friend, relieved at the interruption. Ellanda glared at the doctor, hesitating for only a moment longer before she wandered off. Now they were alone, John saw Carson was wearing a worried expression that told him something was wrong.

"There's been a fire on one of the farms." Carson told him. "Several of the workers have been hurt. "It's quite a bit away – about fifteen miles, so Major Lorne has offered to take me out there to see what I can do to help."

John nodded. "That's fine. I'll grab the others and we'll walk back to the 'gate. We'll see you back at Atlantis later."

Carson raised an eyebrow and he slowly shook his head. "Err…no, I don't think so, Colonel – not with that ankle."

"It's not that far. What is it - three miles, five tops?" John asked, but the firm set of Carson's jaw was giving him an answer he didn't like. "C'mon…I'll even use the damn crutches if you want."

"_No_…The ground is too uneven, and I don't want to risk you falling and making an even bigger mess of your ankle." Carson stood with his arms folded, with the no-nonsense expression John knew only too well.

John tried, but failed to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Okay then…what _do_ you suggest?"

"I'm sure Elder Craemal would find his new _saviour_ somewhere to spend the night. Hopefully, we won't take too long, and Lorne and I will pick you up in the morning."

"Didn't realise you were a comedian, Carson, but fine – go and do your thing." John snarked back. "I'm sure we'll manage just fine until you get back."

Carson's mouth twisted, and John could see him wrestling with his decision. He was still pissed at being treated like a cripple, but realised Carson was only concerned about his welfare.

Before the Scot had a chance to speak John put up his hand. "I'm only kidding, Carson." He said forcing a smile on his face. "I'll go and have a word with the Elder right now. So go, leave and see what you can do for those people, we'll be right here when you get back – promise."

"If you're sure…" Carson started to say.

"I am," John interrupted, and put a hand on the Scot's shoulder.

Carson smiled and nodded to Lorne who was waiting. "Take care, Colonel, and please…try to stop Rodney from drinking any more of that bloody mojay juice." He said with a long sigh. "The silly bugger doesn't realise how potent it is."

John nodded, and stayed watching until Carson and Lorne were out of sight. Suddenly he found himself alone, and despite not being thrilled at the enforced stay, at least the persistent woman was now nowhere to be seen.

The scarlet hue of the setting sun was casting a reflection on the still, dark water, but although the view was pretty the cool mist made him shiver, so John reluctantly made his way inside. First on the agenda, to ask for some extended hospitality. He only hoped Elder Craemal wouldn't mind _entertaining_ his guests overnight.

ooooOoooo

"Tell me again – why does Sheppard get the bed?" Rodney stood, his pillow and blanket in hand staring at John who was perched on the side of the rough wooden bunk.

John chewed his lip, and the flush grew on his face as he started to get up. In response Teyla stared at the pilot, making him sit back down again before she turned to face Rodney. "John has a broken ankle, Rodney, surely that is reason enough." Teyla pointed out, her cultured voice more clipped than usual.

Ronon was already settled lying down on his makeshift bed with his hands clasped behind his head, grinning, as Rodney continued his rant.

"What about my back?" Rodney pushed one hand into the small of his back and stretched, groaning, emphasising his point. "Anyway, it's only his ankle that's broken, and he's wearing a cast – so he can hardly do any more damage, can he?"

"He's right, Teyla…" John said as he started to haul himself up again.

"Stay where you are, John." Teyla put out a hand, and John slumped back down again.

"Rodney…I know you are not normally this selfish." Teyla persisted; ignoring Ronon as he smirked and threw a look at Sheppard. "You are under the influence of too much mojay juice."

"So…what are you? My mother now?" Rodney slurred, and staggered slightly. He stared at the Athosian with glazed eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about anyhow. That chieffy guy…Cram…Cramer…Cramlley – whatever, told me it was a local tonic."

Now Ronon laughed, but he was on his feet in a flash when Rodney started to stumble.

"I've got you, McKay." Ronon told his team mate as he put Rodney's arm around his shoulders. "Think you've had too much _tonic_."

John hauled himself to his feet. He was tired sure, and his ankle ached, but a night on the floor wouldn't hurt – besides McKay's need was much greater than his.

"Decision made – Rodney gets the bed." John smiled wistfully at Teyla. "Thanks, Teyla, but honestly…I'm good." He gave his drunken friend a sideways glance. "With his back, not to mention the headache he's going to have in the morning…and the fact we'll never hear the end of it - I think Rodney's need is greater than mine."

Teyla still looked anxious. "Carson said…"

John interrupted. "Carson doesn't need to know – does he?" He whispered so as not to wake the already snoring scientist. "Anyway, like I said before, it's only for one night."

Teyla's expression was torn, but she nodded and took John's pillow and blanket and put it on the floor. "At least let me make up your bed. I'll go and ask for an extra pillow for your ankle."

John was going to object, but from her determined expression he reckoned it was a lost cause. "Thanks. While you're at it, seeing as we're spending the night, could you ask if he has any more of that juice?"

A few hours later John heard, rather than saw that the rains had arrived. Sleep had come quickly, but the dull ache from his ankle had awoken him early on. Now, with the fierce wind and heavy downpour battering on the tiled roof, there was little chance he would catch more Z's tonight.

For a big guy, Ronon made little noise as he slept. John reckoned it was down to self preservation, an instinctive reaction gained during all those years he'd spent running. Ronon was probably unaware of it, but John knew that some responses, even the subconscious ones, were automatic, especially when the Wraith were on your tail.

A roar of thunder seemed to rip open the heaven's as a flash of lightning illuminated the room, and John got up on his elbows to see if the noise had roused any of his team mates.

Rodney was lying just a few feet away curled on his side. The scientist had his back to him, but the low snore and following whistle told him his friend was still asleep. Teyla, on the other side of the room was also motionless, her beautiful features composed in sleep. Uncomfortable, and with no-one to distract him with some conversation, John slowly scrambled awkwardly to his feet.

As quietly as he could John made his way to the window, and gazed out into the wild night. A discarded metal bucket was caught by the wind and rattled down the cobbled street making a clattering sound as it went and the fishing boats docked in the harbour bobbed about as if they were no more than corks at the end of a line. John hoped that wherever Carson and Lorne were they were safe, but he couldn't help feel exhilarated at the power of nature. Ever since he was a kid, he'd always loved watching the thunder and lighting. Instead of being frightened, the extremes of nature fascinated him.

Despite the storm, or maybe because of it, the small room felt oppressively warm, and John longed for some fresh air. He checked to make sure everyone was asleep, before he slowly made his way down the narrow passageway of the Elder's cottage.

There was no-one about, the occupants having retired hours before, and John flinched as the hinges creaked as he opened the stout wooden door. He waited for a moment to see if anyone had stirred, but when no-one appeared he pulled it open wide and just stood, enjoying the stiff breeze as it ruffled his hair. The relief was immediate as he immediately felt cooler, but as he was already getting damp from the spray whipped up by the wind, John opted to stand back, just a little, to prevent from getting too wet.

It was still dark outside, and at first John thought he was the only person about when he saw a vague outline in the bushes. These were a peaceful people and there was no reason to suspect a threat, but experience had taught him appearances could be deceptive, so his hand instinctively went for his gun - only to find his holster empty. John cursed under his breath, angry for being so careless remembering, too late, that he'd put it under his pillow in order not to jar his leg while he slept.

His pulse raced as he peered into the night, all too aware that unarmed and with a bum ankle he wasn't in the best position to take on an assailant – then he saw the culprit. A black puppy with a white patch over one eye was shivering, as it sat drenched cowering under the bush. John sighed with relief and smiled. For a brief moment he wondered how the Chief Elder felt about pets, but when the pathetic looking creature started crying, John didn't give it another thought, and walked out into the driving rain to make the rescue.

He was swaying, struggling to stand his ground as the wind buffeted his body, but on the second attempt he grabbed the squirming creature by the scruff of the neck.

"You're a cute little guy." John spoke in a low soothing tone to the quivering animal as he scrunched the top of its matted fur. He grinned, when he realised his own hair wouldn't look too great, as he was already soaked despite only being out in the rain for a matter of minutes. "What's say we get inside – huh?"

Another flash of lighting made his head snap skywards, but this time the only crack John heard was the one against his skull, as pain exploded through his head, and he fell boneless to the ground.

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the reviews - they're much appreciated.

So what has happened to John? Well you're about to find out!

JEALOUSY

CHAPTER 2

Ronon's dreads were plastered against his face, as he stood dripping onto the floor. "I've searched everywhere – Sheppard's gone."

"He can't just have disappeared!" Rodney jumped up, cringing as his head began to throb. "C'mon, we're in the middle of a freaking gale for Pete's sake. Where the hell would he have gone to?"

The Satedan glared at McKay, but before he could reply, Teyla put herself between the two men. "I have also searched extensively, Rodney." She informed him in a worried tone. "Ronon is correct. Unfortunately it appears John is no longer in town."

There was silence as the three friends just looked at each other, but it was Rodney who spoke first. "I don't get it. This isn't a Genii stronghold, and these people don't have an underground installation – I checked. The Mondolans don't even have any weapons, so who - "

"Who could have taken him?" Craemal, the chief elder interrupted with the question everyone wanted the answer to. "I don't know, Doctor McKay. When I find the person responsible, trust me when I say they will be severely punished." The older man's face was sombre, and it seemed as if he'd aged in the space of a few hours.

Teyla went over, and put her hand on his arm. "No-one is blaming you Elder, but did anyone see, or hear anything?"

Craemal took off his wet outer jacket, and gave it a shake. "No…I have visited every house, but no-one saw or heard a thing." He sighed as he slumped down onto a chair. "After the feast it isn't uncommon for people to sleep through to the next morning."

"Yeah…I can get that." Rodney grimaced, holding his head in his hands. He squinted up and looked at Ronon. "What about tracks?" He asked. "I thought you runners were good at finding that kind of stuff?"

Ronon rolled his eyes, and grunted. "Sure, we _runners _are good at all kinds of shit, but there was nothing to find, McKay. The heavy rain had washed any tracks, or blood, away."

At the mention of blood, the realisation that Sheppard was lying somewhere, probably hurt, made his own blood run cold. Even with a gammy leg, Rodney knew there was no way John would have gone anywhere, without a fight – unless of course he'd been attacked. Neither scenario made him feel any better.

"Lorne will be able to track his transponder from the jumper." Ronon's eyes raked both Rodney and Teyla as he spoke.

"Yes he could, but even with his skill it is unlikely he will be able to fly in this storm." Teyla answered. "You were not with us, Ronon, during the time when the Genii invaded Atlantis, but it was a day similar to this." She told him in a sad voice. "On that occasion Doctor Beckett, Lt Ford and I were in a jumper on the mainland rescuing civilians, when the storm struck. We were grounded, unable to return to Atlantis until the worst had passed."

At the re-telling of the tale, Rodney's hand instinctively went to his arm. The scar was barely visible now, but the memory of that horrific day still lingered. When he first watched 'Die Hard', Rodney sneered at the thought one man could take down so many bad guys. After the siege of Atlantis, he realised Sheppard was one such hero.

The seemingly laid back flyboy killed over fifty-five Genii to protect his city, and rescue his own people. He owed John his life, but more than that, he'd never been able to look at his best friend in the same light since. The fight to survive brought out the best in all of them, but John more than anyone. Sheppard showed what an impressive leader he was, and although Rodney still challenged him, the Lt Colonel had earned both his respect and his trust.

His head was still pounding, but the woozy feeling clouding his brain was thankfully starting to disperse.

"We've established Sheppard most likely isn't in town, so are there any other villages nearby?" Rodney asked.

Craemal shook his head. "The next village is on the other side of the planet, but there are a few farms scattered further inland. The nearest is about ten miles from here."

"If I leave now I could be there in an hour." Ronon's hand clenched over his blaster as he made for the door.

Teyla caught him before he reached it. "Ronon! You do not know where you are going, and in this weather that could be suicide." Her determined expression softened, and her eyes became sad. "We both know John would not want your blood on his hands."

The Satedan growled, his face twisted, and he seemed undecided what to do, when he suddenly slammed his fist against the wall. As he watched the blood trickle from the torn skin, Ronon became silent. "Fine," He said eventually, "but storm or not, if Lorne isn't back here soon – I'm going after Sheppard."

"The rains won't abate for several weeks, but the storms start to subside after the first twenty-four hours." Craemal told them, his tone more encouraging.

The three team mates looked at each other, but it was Rodney who said what they were all thinking. "Let's hope Sheppard can last that long."

ooooOoooo

John had had worse days, but not many.

Murphy's Law, a close acquaintance of his, had pulled the rug from under his feet once again, but this time he didn't know why. From Lorne's report, it should have been a simple mission. A quick trip through the 'gate, hobnob with the local dignitaries to seal the deal, and bam – another new ally.

At least that's the way it should have gone down, but from the warm trickle falling down his face, and the deep pounding throb vibrating through his skull, it didn't take a genius like McKay to figure out something had gone badly wrong.

Unable to see through the burlap sack for a moment he panicked, wondering what had happened to the rest of his team. Surrounded by darkness his senses were already impaired, and the blood roaring through his ears wasn't doing a lot for his hearing. John wasn't claustrophobic, but the oppressive hood was making his skin hot and sticky. It's dank, musty scent adding to the nausea brought on by the concussion. He wanted to barf, but with his head stuck in a confined space John didn't want to make his situation any more unpleasant, so he took slow deep breaths desperately trying not to throw up.

His hands and feet were tied so tight, nothing was moving. His extremities so numb, John reckoned he'd been here for a while - wherever _here_ was. In the dim recesses of his aching head, he could remember enjoying some of the best hospitality he'd had since arriving in Pegasus, but after that it went a bit fuzzy. All he could recall was sharing a room with the rest of his team, then being awoken by one of the wildest storms he'd ever seen. There was something else too – something about a puppy?

The ground where he was lying was hard and cold. He was freezing, and as his damp clothes clung to his skin, John shivered as the chill seeped down to his very core. Where the hell was he? And what worried him more, where _was_ his team?

John shuddered, as a blast of cold air accompanied the creak of a wooden door. Someone was coming, but he willed himself to stay still and silent as the vibration of the heavy footsteps told him his capturer was nearly upon him.

"Gahh…" A heavy boot tore into his side. John grunted, tears springing to his eyes as he curled into a ball to fight the pain. It didn't work, and in agony he panted, struggling to get enough air.

"So the mighty Military leader of Atlantis isn't so impressive now - are you, _pretty_ boy?" the mystery voice, definitely male, taunted him.

"Arghh…Fu...k!" John cried out as another blow sent him flying across the ground like a freaking football. He heard the rib crack, before the explosion of pain set his chest alight.

"_Wha_…why have you kidnapped me?" John panted. "I don't have any money, and there will be people out there searching for me." There was an eerie silence, save for the sound of his attacker's heavy breathing, so he hoped it meant he was getting through. "Look, just tell me what you wan -"

"Shut up! You talk too much." The man roared at him. Then John felt his hot breath as he knelt down to whisper through the sack. "What I want...is to teach you a lesson -"

John had only managed to stutter out part of the question before the assault continued. His attacker in no mood to say any more, as he viciously kicked him again and again. It felt like there were metal tips on the end, as the sharp toes of the boots dove into his stomach, his sides then his back. The abuse endless, as the blows came faster, harder, ripping into his kidneys, his thighs, until the sharp edge slammed into his injured ankle, then the lights went out.

Awareness came slowly as pain radiated in waves through his body, but as his senses slowly returned his parched dry mouth told him something else was wrong. A weird suffocating presence that hadn't been there before - a gag.

It wasn't soft like a cloth, but hard and tasted of metal. The sack was already restricting his breathing, but now unable to open his mouth, John gave way to panic. He fought against his bonds, and frantically started to shake his head. Only coming to his senses when a sharp pain speared through his mouth, and the familiar metallic taste of his own blood started to pour from the ripped tender skin.

John lay there, shaking, wondering what the hell he was going to do, and yet knowing restrained hand and foot he was going nowhere. His head was pounding, his body throbbing and his mouth so sore he didn't think he could cope with solid food again. One thing was certain, John knew he had to get a grip and calm down, or he wasn't going to make it.

In his cruel prison John forced himself to focus, shutting out everything except the sound of his racing heart. He concentrated willing it slower, telling himself it was just him in this situation. His team were safe, and would be pulling out all the stops to find him - then a sudden breeze made him shiver, as the door opened once again.

He steeled himself for yet another battering, when the hood was roughly pulled from his head. John blinked, blinded by the light streaming from an oil lamp. When his eyes adjusted John saw the face of his attacker for the first time – standing by his side, the woman who had accosted him outside the tent.

"What have you done Jaulan?" The woman looked at John, horrified, as she put a hand to her mouth to smother a sob.

The man was younger than John, with short fair hair. He was stocky, with a rugged complexion. "You wanted him – so here he is!"

"I…I don't understand, husband…"

"You really don't, do you?" Jaulan sneered at his wife, grabbing her by arm and making her face him. "Time and time again you taunt me, woman. I have to watch you throwing yourself at other men, laughing with them, while you ignore me, treat me like a fool."

He paused, stared at John, and looked back at his wife. "What's so special about this one anyway? Is it the strange way his hair sticks up…or maybe it's the colour of his eyes?" He asked, almost absently, but didn't wait for an answer. "Or is it because he bears a resemblance to Velande? He was tall and dark like this one, and don't try to deny he was your first choice. The day he left the village was the happiest of my life because I knew with him around, I would never stand a chance with you. Still, even though I thought I won your heart, I now realise you never loved me, have you?"

The tension in the air became electric, as he began shaking his wife. "For years I've suffered your infidelity. Watched you flirt with every handsome stranger coming into the village." He raged at her. "What have you been hoping for my _love_ – for someone to take you away from this dreary existence? " Jaulan looked at his own frame and his voice grew quiet. "I'll never be tall and slim like the men you favour, but I've worked my fingers to the bone to give you everything. Except…it will never be enough, will it? I don't know why you married me."

"I'm _sorry_." The woman sobbed louder, casting John guilty glances. "It's just a game…a silly, selfish game because I want your attention." When Jaulan's face creased in confusion, she explained. "You are always so busy, and when you get home you barely look at me anymore." She said, in a wistful tone. "I know I'm no longer as attractive as I used to be …no longer the pretty young girl that you married. But it's you I want, it's you I love, Jaulan. It has always been you - right from the moment you picked me up after I fell in the school yard."

There was silence for a moment as Jaulan looked at her with suspicion.

"I liked Velande and yes he was handsome, but he meant nothing to me." She continued, then nodded towards John. "Just like this man means nothing to me. I have been a foolish woman, Jaulan and I beg your forgiveness. Punish me if you must, but please... stop persecuting Colonel Sheppard for my mistakes." She wailed again, fresh tears steaming down her face.

Jaulan pushed her away, and she staggered, nearly falling to the ground. The jealous man then pulled an old handgun from his holster and raised it to John's head. "I don't believe you. I seen the two of you together, outside the tent – you were in his arms!"

"No! It wasn't like that," She protested. "He tripped and would have fallen if I hadn't caught him. What you saw was me helping him… that was all."

"So you won't mind if I put a bullet in his brain?"

"No! Please - don't do this." She begged, her voice hoarse with crying. "He is an innocent man…a decent man." She lowered her head. "I did try to make him notice me, but Colonel Sheppard rejected my advances."

John watched the scene unfold; astounded he'd been kidnapped and assaulted all because a guy thought he'd been having an affair with his wife. It would have almost been funny but for the fact that one…he was innocent of all charges. And two…He hurt like hell. When the man turned to stare at him, John realised the Pegasus version of 'The Jerry Springer Show' was over, and he braced himself for another assault.

Jaulan looked at him for a second, then holstered the gun and removed a knife from his belt. Restrained, John could only tense up as the blade came towards him, the gag sticking to the roof of his mouth as he closed his eyes waiting for the end. His eyes sprang open as he felt the gag, which turned out to be a bridle, pulled from his mouth, and his hands suddenly fall by his side.

"Get out! Leave now - before I change my mind." Jaulan spat out, as he swept the blade across the rope securing John's feet.

"Husband…Jaulan. You can't put him out like this. He's hurt and won't last long in the storm." The woman protested, but John could tell her words were falling on deaf ears, as the man pushed her aside and walked away, leaving them alone in the wooden shed.

"Are you coming...or has everything you said all been lies?" Jaulan's disembodied voice called from outside.

The woman hesitated, casting him a remorseful glance, but only lingered for a moment longer before she mouthed the words _'I'm sorry'_ and ran after her husband.

He hurt all over and all he wanted to do was curl up and lick his wounds, but John reckoned he needed to get moving in case the psycho changed his mind. So only waiting long enough to get the feeling back in his arms and legs, John clambered painfully to his feet, only to stumble, banging against the wooden frame, as excruciating pain speared through his leg.

John fell to the ground and lay there, shaking as he tried to get a handle on the pain. He took slow deep breaths, praying that the deep searing ache would ease down a notch, or at least enough so he could think straight.

When he'd first damaged his ankle, it had hurt, but now the all consuming agony felt like his damn limb was broken in half. A surreptitious glance didn't reveal any blood, at least not from his leg, but he could tell the cast was cracked as it was loose, the firm support of before, gone.

Regardless, John knew he couldn't stay so he scanned his former prison for something, anything that would make do as a crutch, then he saw it – a long wooden pole. He gritted his teeth, groaning, as using the side of the shed as leverage, he gradually pulled himself more or less upright, careful not to aggravate his injuries anymore than he had to.

Slowly, John staggered, wincing as each movement reminded him of every brutal assault, until he was close enough to pull it towards him. On closer inspection the pole was attached to a something resembling a hoe. It wasn't ideal, and the rusted curve of the metal dug into his armpit, but there was nothing else, and at least it allowed him to stumble along without falling over.

The open door was banging, the force of the wind almost taking it off the hinges, but John didn't waste any more time taking his first tentative steps into the unknown. The picturesque fishing village was gone, replaced instead with fields stretching out into the horizon. So he was no longer in town, but then he hadn't expected to be. If he was, his team would have found him by now.

His body protested every movement as he staggered forward, struggling to make headway against the force of Mother Nature. The fierce bite of the wind buffering him, shoving him from side to side, nearly knocking him on his ass as he seemed to take one step forward and two back. John was freezing, drenched by the driving rain. It felt like fire ants stinging his tender skin, but at least he wasn't thirsty anymore, as the cold water running down his face was easing the raging fire in his torn mouth.

John didn't know where he was, but realised if he didn't find shelter soon, he was a dead man. A faint light was visible from a house on the brow of the hill, but he only hesitated for a moment before veering in the opposite direction. He needed help, but couldn't be sure who lived there, and daren't venturing back into the lion's den.

The sky was black as the thunder raged over head, and with the rain battering against his face, John could barely see where he was going. A flash of lightning illuminated the nearby forest, and for a split second John thought he could see a dark rugged mass in the distance. He altered direction hoping it turned out to be caves, somewhere to shelter, and not yet another cosmic joke.

Time had lost all meaning since he'd been attacked, and in the raging storm it was impossible to discern day from night, but the adrenaline that had taken him from the shed was fading fast. His body was trembling, the pain in his leg throbbing incessantly, and the pounding in his head was making the landscape blurred and indistinguishable.

Worn out by exhaustion and injury, John didn't see the broken branch flying towards him until it was too late. It slammed into his face, leaving him stunned and unable to stop himself from falling. The pain swam and surged in his head as the blood trickled from the blow. He wanted to cry more from frustration than pain. Sore and tired he didn't want to move another step, but his people would be out there looking for him, and John was damned if when they found him, they were going to find his corpse instead.

His stiff, swollen fingers clawed the sodden ground until he listed onto his good side, then yelling into the night, John reached out and grabbed his crutch. It seemed to take forever to drag his trembling body to the nearest tree, and even longer to use it as leverage to once again get back on his feet. He was shaking, and barely able to stand, the effort having taken nearly all his remaining strength, but he started off again, more slowly this time – as if he had a choice.

Just when he thought he couldn't take another step he saw it - the entrance to a cave. He wanted to rush towards it, but stilled the joy bubbling up as he couldn't afford to take another tumble. His progress was slow and painful, but the relief as he gained shelter made him smile. As cover went, the cold damp cave wasn't ideal, but it was better than being outside so John eased himself carefully down onto the hard stone floor.

Survival 101 had taught him that to avoid hypothermia, he needed to remove his wet clothes and built a fire. Except his matches were inside his tac vest back in the village, and his hands were shaking so hard, he quickly gave up trying to make his numb, clumsy fingers undo the buttons of his shirt. John closed his eyes promising himself once he'd taken five, he would try again, but as the storm raged, he shut out the noise, shut out the pain, and gave way to the darkness that wouldn't be denied.

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed that, and please review. I love to hear your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews, and to the anonymous reviewer - I'm sorry I can't reply as the site won't allow it.

So we left John in trouble, but where are the team?

JEALOUSY

CHAPTER 3

None of Sheppard's team slept as the storm raged through the day into yet another night, but despite the persistent rain, the sky looked a little less dark when dawn broke the following morning.

Ronon pulled his coat a little tighter as he walked into the downpour, followed by Teyla, with Rodney taking the six. The geek was already soaked, his wet hair clapped against his head, but for once he wasn't complaining. That was what he admired about McKay. Rodney might be a pain in the ass at times, but he was brave and in his own way fearless. Hours stuck in the lab meant he wasn't as fit as the rest of them, and Ronon was concerned the scientist might not be up to the trek, yet he knew nothing would stop Rodney helping one of his own. Ronon respected him like hell, but would never let on. If he did, McKay would never let him hear the end of it.

When they'd first met McKay had been hanging upside down from a tree, his face as green as the surrounding forest. Ronon had been a runner then, a man used to being a figure of fear. His haggard appearance adding to the mystique, as men and women alike fled from his presence. Yet Rodney had barked orders at him, the short motormouth more afraid of throwing up than losing his life to a stranger. Now he considered the geek to be one of his best friends, but it was Sheppard to whom he owed the greatest debt. Sheppard was the one who trusted him, even though they'd only just met. It was Sheppard who saved him from a life of misery, gave him a home, and became the brother he'd never had.

"Mister…Mister!" A child's voice grabbed his attention, just as a small hand tugged at his coat. Ronon looked down on a scrawny kid, with a shock of dark hair that stuck up just like John's.

"What is it, kid?" Ronon didn't stop, but slowed down enough so the boy could ask the question clearly on his mind.

"Have you seen Funkle?" The boy asked, sounding slightly breathless as he tried to keep up.

"Funkle?" McKay stared at the boy. "Okay, I'll bite – what's a funkle?"

"Funkle is my puppy." The boy explained. "He's black, and has a big white patch over his eye…I haven't seen him since the storm began."

A large tear started to fall down the small cheek, and Teyla put out a hand to make Ronon stop.

"What is your name, child?" She asked smiling.

"Karmel."

Teyla got down on her knees to look him straight in the eye. "I tell you what, Karmel. Our friend is also missing, but I promise that during our search we will also look for Funkle."

"And what the bloody hell is a _funkle_?"

"Carson!" Teyla's relief was visible in her wide smile. "Thank goodness you have returned - John is missing."

"Hell's bells." Carson's face fell. "I knew this was a bad idea allowing him to come. There's no such thing as an _easy_ mission where Colonel Sheppard is concerned." He wiped a hand over his eyes, blinking away the excess water. "Do we know what happened?"

"Well, he obviously thought it would be a good idea to go for a walk in the middle of a force ten gale!" Rodney rolled his eyes, his clipped sarcastic tone getting louder as he spoke. "Of course we don't know what happened – that's why he's _missing_!"

Before Carson could respond, Teyla drew Rodney a look. "Rodney is just worried, as we all are."

Lorne ran towards them. "Where's the colonel?" he asked, looking around for his CO.

Rodney had his mouth open to answer, but Ronon interrupted. "Sheppard's been missing for nearly a day – we need to find him."

The major nodded, taking them all in with one glance. "Then what are we waiting for…"

As the party began to leave, Ronon stopped and turned back to the little boy who was still standing there. "Go home, kid. If we find your dog, we'll bring him back."

ooooOoooo

"Sorry for troubling you, and thank you for your help." Teyla barely managed to keep a smile on her face as the farmer's wife nodded, and closed the door. The smile quickly fading as she wandered down to join the men, their worried expressions mirroring her own concern.

Rodney scraped a hand through his soaking hair, as he stared up towards the continuing downpour, then back towards his team mate. "Another dead end? I don't believe this." He ranted to no one in particular. "_No_-_one_ knows where he is? He has to be on this planet somewhere!" Rodney's face twisted when his foot got stuck, and it took him a minute to pull it out of the mud. "I'm going back to the jumper to find out what the hell is wrong with those sensors. If Sheppard is here – I'm going to find him."

"What do you think, Major?" Carson asked, concern making his Scots twang more pronounced than usual. "Do you think the sensors are knackered?"

Lorne shrugged, but his face had clouded over. "Honestly, Doc – I don't know. Zelenka had checked them out just before we left, so I don't think so." He too looked heavenward. "This storm could be running interference, or it could be because the colonel's signal has been blocked by something."

"Blocked?" Ronon raised an eyebrow. "You mean like he's being held underground, or a cave?"

"Yeah…could be." Lorne's face lit up and he clicked his fingers. He smiled at the remaining trio. "There was a large rock formation not far from that second farm we visited."

"I do believe you are right, Major." Teyla agreed. "However, when we showed the farmer's wife a picture of John, the woman said she didn't recognise him."

"Was that the pretty lassie with the brown curly hair?" Carson asked. When Teyla nodded, his expression became unreadable. "When you came back from the house I thought you said she just hadn't _seen_ him." He muttered a curse under his breath, then let out a long sigh. "Well, either she has a bad memory, or she's hiding something." At the puzzled looks, Carson explained. "Just before Major Lorne and I left to tend to the burn victims, I saw her with the colonel. The hussy was all over him like a rash. It was pretty obvious John was relieved when he saw me coming, but I could tell she wasn't happy at the interruption."

Lorne, Ronon, Teyla and Carson all looked at each other before rushing towards the jumper. When they got inside, Lorne ran past Rodney to slide into the pilot's seat. At McKay's indignant expression he gave him a grim smile. "Buckle up, Doc. We're going to get the colonel and bring him home."

ooooOoooo

Teyla was about to knock, when Ronon stormed forward and kicked the wooden door off its hinges.

He barged straight into the simple living room immediately scanning the area. Sheppard was nowhere to be seen, but the woman they'd met earlier was sitting on a rocking chair beside a log fire. There was a livid bruise on her cheek that hadn't been there on their last visit, but more significant, was the black puppy with a white patch over its eye sitting on her lap.

"Funkle?" Teyla called out. At the sound of its name the puppy barked, and jumped down from the chair. He ran to Teyla with his tail wagging.

"I'm only going to ask this once." Ronon towered over the terrified woman. "Where is he?"

Apart from the bruise her face was already devoid of colour, but the woman went a shade whiter and started trembling "He left. I'm so…sorry. My husband is a good man…I pushed him too far and…and he lost his temper!" She mumbled, then broke into a sob.

Teyla handed the dog to Rodney who was standing behind her, then moved in front of the Satedan. "Let me handle this, Ronon."

Ronon was reluctant to move at first, but eventually gave way to his team mate.

In a quiet voice filled with anger Teyla stared at the woman. "You will tell me everything – now! Leave nothing out, because I give you fair warning. My friend's anger is nothing compared to mine."

The sobbing stopped, and the woman's eyes grew wide with fear, but as she opened her mouth to speak, a drunken man appeared from the adjoining room.

"Who the hell are you?" He staggered towards them, then his eyes went wide. "Wait a minute - I know who you are!" He went up to Ronon and began prodding him with his finger. "You were with that good for nothing wife stealer." The man swayed as he gave a cruel smile. "Well get out! Before I give you the same lesson I gave that lecherous boss of yours – arggh!"

The man went flying across the room, hit the wall with a thud and slid unconscious onto the floor. Ronon rubbed his fist in satisfaction.

Carson went over and checked for a pulse. "He's alive, but I think you've broken his jaw."

"Step back, Doc." Ronon had his blaster in his hand. It was set to kill.

"Don't do it, son." Carson implored him. "He's not worth it, and we both know John wouldn't want you to kill him. Besides, I'm sure the Chief Elder will want to make a special example of the man who kidnapped his new best friend."

For a moment Ronon stood where he was, blaster in hand until he reluctantly holstered the weapon. He turned to Teyla. "Well. Did she tell you where he is?"

Telya shook her head sadly.

The woman ran towards her husband, and got down on her knees beside him. "Truly…I don't know. When Jaulan released him he was hurt, but the colonel was still lucid when I last saw him."

"Your moron of a husband hurt him!" Rodney raised his voice, shaking his head. "What is it with you people? Wasn't the big white cast on his ankle a clue? He was already injured!"

"How long?" Lorne asked her. When she didn't immediately answer, he raised his voice. "I said…how long ago since the colonel left?"

"It was about five hours ago, maybe six – I haven't seen him since." She replied, almost in a whisper.

At the sound of the heavy rain battering off the roof, the Atlantians shared a worried look.

Ronon glared at the man still lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. He wanted to kill him. Sheppard was probably out there, somewhere, lying injured in the middle of the storm - at least he hoped he was. It wasn't the best scenario, but if John was dead, regardless of what anyone said he would come back and take the coward's worthless life. For now, revenge would have to wait - it was time to find his friend.

ooooOoooo

It was pouring, and Carson shivered as the driving rain dripped from his hair and down the back of his neck.

As a Scot he was used to the rain, but back home the people dressed for the inclement conditions, whereas he knew for a fact the colonel had only been wearing his BDUs when he was taken. He checked his watch and frowned. It was just over an hour since they'd searched the shed where Sheppard had been held.

There was dried blood on the floor, and the drops on the metal bit of the bridle told their own grim story, but fortunately there wasn't enough to indicate he was seriously hurt. Regardless, with a bad leg and weakened from a beating, John would not survive in this weather for long. Carson was worried, and he prayed that his friend had managed to gain shelter hours ago.

Rodney was getting paler with every step, and he wondered how long it was since he'd eaten.

Carson reached inside his poncho for a power bar. "Here – eat this."

Rodney caught it, nodded gratefully and tore open the silver foil. "Thanks."

"I don't want two casualties on my hands." Carson pressed the issue, gently reminding him of his condition.

Rodney, more subdued than usual went scarlet. "Um…I forgot to stock up before we left. I was - "

"You were worried about your friend, Rodney." Carson patted him on the shoulder. He smiled. "That's understandable, son, but it's my job to worry about you too."

"I've found him!" Ronon shouted from the entrance of a large cave a few metres away. "Sheppard's alive, but you'd better get over here, doc."

Between dealing with burn victims, and searching for the colonel, Carson hadn't had much sleep during the last forty-eight hours. He was shattered, but the relief at finding John kicked his adrenaline into overdrive, and Carson sprinted the remaining distance.

When he arrived his heart sank. The colonel looked half-dead, his face practically translucent against the puffy lips that were caked in blood. He was lying deathly still with his head on Teyla's lap, but Carson was pleased to see the Athosian had already carried out basic first aid. The top half of his sodden clothing was lying discarded off to the side, and Sheppard was now covered with an emergency blanket.

"Good lass." Carson smiled at her as he started taking his vitals. Without turning round, he spoke to Lorne. "Bring the jumper as close as you can, Major, and take Rodney back with you. Make sure he gets something to eat."

"I'm not leaving." Rodney stood with his arms folded. He looked paler than ever, but more determined than Carson had seen him in a long time.

Carson and Teyla shared a concerned look, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Carson forestalled her. "We have everything covered here, Rodney," The Scot told him in a firm voice, "but I need you to go back with Major Lorne to get the jumper prepared for the colonel's arrival."

"Oh…Okay then." Rodney mumbled, some colour rushing back to his cheeks. He looked uncertain, and Carson thought he was going to say something else, when the scientist turned to Lorne. "Well…you heard the man, Major – let's go!"

Carson winked at Teyla, but wasted no more time and immediately resumed assessing the colonel's condition.

John was alive, but only just. His pulse was weak and thready, and upon further examination Carson saw large areas of livid bruising all over his torso, back and legs - then he spotted the broken cast. There were a least a couple of cracked ribs, but as there was no rigidity in his abdomen, Carson didn't think there was any internal bleeding. He couldn't be sure until he got him under the scanner, but at the moment the main area of concern was hypothermia. If he didn't get Sheppard into a warm dry environment soon, John might not make it.

He started a saline drip, wishing he'd had the facilities to heat it first, but aware it was the best he could do under the circumstances. In the quiet of the cave Ronon and Teyla were just watching him, their eyes flying to the entrance at every sound – watching for Lorne's return.

Carson looked at the pale, gaunt face of his friend and prayed they hadn't been too late.

Their friendship hadn't had the best of starts, when he'd nearly killed the man with a drone in Antarctica. In Atlantis, he'd treated him from everything from a head cold to a bullet wound, but Carson would never forget the day, or the guilt he still carried, when John was infected by his retrovirus.

The damn thing had nearly killed him in the worst possible way, but at least he'd managed to reverse the process, although John's long painful recovery still haunted him. Despite it all, or maybe because of the life of adversity they shared, they had become good friends. It wouldn't be fair if John were to lose his life because of the rage of a jealous man.

ooooOoooo

He was cold, but not the deep gnawing chill of before, and his damp clothes were gone. The sounds were different too. The howling wind and driving rain were replaced with the rhythmic crash as the waves lapped against the pier. John smiled – he was home.

There was a dull ache all over his body, and his head was pounding. His leg was throbbing too and when he tried to move John gasped, then yelped at the sharp pain shooting through his mouth.

"Easy, Colonel, don't try to talk son, your mouth is pretty cut up."

John cracked open an eye, and saw a relieved Carson Beckett watching him with concern.

"How…gah!" His fuzzy brain had instantly forgotten the warning Carson had just given him, but the searing agony piercing through his mouth made sure he wouldn't forget again. He squeezed his eyes shut; only opening them again at the sound of Rodney's voice.

"What did the man just tell you?" Rodney ranted, but his friend sounded worried. "Here." Rodney reached for a cup from the bedside cabinet. "This might help."

It hurt even to open his mouth a slit, but the ice tasted like heaven and cooled the fiery pain down to a dying ember. John cracked open his eyes wider, and nodded for more.

"What do you think I am…your man servant?" Rodney raised an eyebrow, but John could tell he didn't mind.

Beckett shook his head, folded his arms and gave Rodney one of his glares. "If you're quite finished, teasing the man, Rodney? I think the colonel has suffered quite enough for one day."

"Very _funny_." Rodney rolled his eyes.

"There's nothing funny about being beaten senseless while bound and gagged, son." Beckett muttered, while continuing to check John's vitals.

"I didn't mean - " Rodney mumbled.

Carson stopped and looked at the scientist with remorse. "I know you didn't, son." Then the doctor turned to John. "It's me that's sorry for letting you down, Colonel. I shouldn't have allowed you to leave the base while you were still injured."

John grabbed his wrist, and with his other hand motioned for a pen.

Carson placed a small white pad of paper on the bed, and a pen in his right hand. "I thought you might be wanting this, Colonel – but I don't want you 'talking' too long. You need your rest."

John hurt all over and his hand shook as he tried to keep the pen steady. He handed Carson a note. "Not your fault."

Carson went scarlet. "Yes…it is. If you had been fully fit -"

"It still would have happened." John scribbled, then drew a circle with an upside down smile. "I'm unlucky."

A ghost of a smile started to grow on the Scot's face.

John wrote again. "Down time – how bad?"

He heard Ronon's smirk, before he saw the big Satedan standing beside Teyla at the foot of the bed.

"You owe me ten bucks, McKay." Ronon called over to Rodney. McKay's face twisting as he reached deep into his pocket, making a grudging show of handing over the money. "I told him that would be the first thing you would ask." Ronon said, seeing John's confusion.

Carson rolled his eyes. "What are you people like…"

Teyla glanced at the doctor, looking indignant. "I hope you did not think I took part in this wager, Carson?"

"Of course I didn't, love." The Scot patted her shoulder and Teyla smiled at him. Her smile quickly turned to a glare as she gave her two team mates a scathing look, before going to sit by John at the other side of the bed.

"Now…if you're all quite finished could I be allowed to answer the colonel's question?" Carson raised his eyebrow and stared them into silence. "Good…well, Colonel, you have a slight concussion, three cracked ribs and a bruised kidney on the left side. Unfortunately the bastard caused the bone in your ankle to separate, so once we finally got your hypothermia under control, I operated to reduce the fracture. Its set you right back, and then some. Recovery wise, we're talking at least a couple of months with some physical therapy to follow, still, with the condition you're in at the moment I don't think you'll feel up to going anywhere for quite a while."

The pain which had been slightly muted was now notching up, and John grimaced as he squirmed slightly in bed. He felt rather than saw the drugs being put into his IV, and as the pain began to ease his eyes became heavy. Still there was one more question he needed the answer to.

"Did you get the psycho?" John wrote furiously, the force of his anger nearly tearing the paper.

"Yup! The chief elder has him under guard…in the prison infirmary." Rodney beamed, patting Ronon on the shoulder. Ronon grunted and Rodney quickly removed his hand, but the smile only faded for a moment to come back in full force as the scientist continued. "You should have seen the guy's face, Sheppard – it was priceless! One minute, the moron is mouthing off, then he's flying without the aid of the jumper." At John's worried look, Rodney paused. "He's going to be okay -"

"I wanted to kill him," Ronon interrupted, with a sour expression, "but Carson wouldn't let me."

Teyla gently swept back the hair from John's brow, and they shared a smile. He was glad the guy had gotten a taste of his own medicine…but killing him? While he'd felt like doing the deed himself during the painful beating, at the end of the day he'd let him go. Okay, so maybe it was only to die in the storm, but he _had_ survived, and would eventually recover to get on with his life.

As for Jaulan, he'd ruined his own life with his insane jealousy.

John didn't know the penalty for kidnap and serious assault on Mondolan, but he reckoned Craemal would hand down the harshest sentence he could. His wife would also suffer from the repercussions of her behaviour, as without her husband to manage the farm, she would need to fend for herself. John couldn't feel sorry for either of them.

Even with the broken ankle John had still been in good shape before the assault. If Jaulan had unleashed his rage on someone else less able to deal – then the outcome might have been far more serious. One thing was for sure. He would never, ever hoodwink Beckett into letting him go off world until he was fully fit, ever again. At least not unless it was for a very good reason…

"Has the colonel time for one more visitor, Doctor Beckett?" Lorne asked.

"You have a minute, son, then I'm chasing you all away." But Carson was smiling as he made way for Lorne holding the puppy John had rescued from the storm.

The little guy seemed pleased to see him, as it licked his hand while John ruffled the small dark head.

Ronon came over and gently lifted it into his arms. His expression softened as the small creature nestled into his chest. "This kid asked us to look for his dog." Ronon explained, unaware of the role the puppy played in John's abduction. "We found it in the farmer's house. Lorne's taking me over so I can return Funkle to his owner."

"Funkle?" John wrote, and everyone laughed at his expression on hearing the funny name. He smiled, sharing the joke, and happy to be amongst his family once again John finally allowed sleep to pull him under.

At the sight of their slumbering friend the group went quiet as Carson lowered the bed, tucked the blanket over his shoulders and dimmed the lights. Rodney stayed behind to take first watch, and as the clattering of keys began, Carson walked with the others until he reached his office.

"This is going to make interesting reading on the report." Carson said, to no-one in particular.

Teyla looked confused. "I know John is still far from well, Carson, but surely his injuries are nothing extraordinary?"

"Doctor Beckett means Colonel Sheppard's report, Teyla." Lorne broke into a wry smile, as he exchanged a glance with the Scot. "I'm looking forward to reading how he's going to explain _why_ this happened to him. Being kidnapped and beaten all because a woman thought he was cute…is going to make quite some reading."

The End.

Well that's the end of the tale, and I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks again to **sheppardlover928 **for the story idea, and of course to my wonderful beta **Sterenyk Strey.**

Thanks also to all of you who read the story, and especially those kind souls who took the time to review - I appreciate it. Its your support that keeps me at my computer long after I should have gone to bed! And of course I want to wish the birthday girl, **flyboyfan23** a great day when it comes!


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